


Moving through shadows

by Bluemoonflower



Series: Shadow Dragon [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Azkaban, Dark Mark, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heartache, Hermione Granger's house, Jealousy, Making Out, Malfoy Manor, Premonitions, Romance, Sexual Content, Wet Dream, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemoonflower/pseuds/Bluemoonflower
Summary: Draco struggles with his task, and with his feelings for Hermione.Set during HP and the Half-blood Prince.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the start of this story I backtracked to the day right after the Masquerade.  
> This time, things from Draco's point of view.

Draco strode through the corridors at Hogwarts. He hadn’t slept a wink. Not an uncommon thing, these days. Since the beginning of the school year, a dark cloud of worry accompanied him everywhere, especially in bed. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams were all nightmares. And then, suddenly, last night, a glimpse of light.

The way she had spoken to him during the Masquerade. So calm, so confident. Like there wasn’t a doubt in the world that they belonged together. It had made everything seem so simple.

And then afterwards, in the Room of Requirement. Her touch, her whispers, the sound she had made when he took her body and made it his…

When she had started to kiss his Dark Mark, he had genuinely felt like he was dying. In that moment, no one had ever been closer to all that he was. 

And so he had told her. Everything.

Well, not _everything_ , of course. But still, enough to be able to deduce things from. Especially for one as clever as her.

God, when that mask had come off! Talk about a surprise. Who would’ve ever guessed it was Granger, of all people, he had just spent the night of his life with? 

She had been surprised to discover him as well. Unpleasantly surprised... 

_Why did she do it?_ he wondered, for about the millionth time. _Seek me out like that. Was she under a spell? Or was it simply a case of mistaken identity?_

He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. Especially that last option irked him. He tried not to think about it too much.

_Whatever the reason, it’s risky, her knowing all this stuff about me. I can’t trust her. She’s one of them…_

And yet he felt…

He didn’t know what he felt. 

All he knew was that he didn't mind she had been the one. That was the true surprise of it all. There had just been such a connection between them. It seemed to _fit_ , somehow. Even this morning, when she had brushed past him at breakfast. Electricity… 

Had she sensed it too? She had run away, but maybe that was just the initial shock. Maybe she was afraid he would laugh at her or something. After all, to say Granger and he had never been friends would be the understatement of the year. So maybe, just _maybe_ , if he could talk to her…

Adrenalin rushed through Draco’s veins as the door of the Room of Hidden Things appeared before him. Still lost in thought, he stepped inside. He had spent so much time in here lately, he could find his way with his eyes closed.

But when he rounded the last pile of books, he stopped dead in his track.

For a fraction of a second, he thought the Room had conjured her up. The one thing he needed more than anything right now. An apparition, straight from his mind into the flesh.

But then he noticed where she was standing, and the glimmer of hope turned into panic. 

‘What are you doing here?’ he blurted out.

Hermione arched her eyebrows. ‘Me? What are _you_ doing here?’

He couldn’t think of an excuse. His mind went totally blank. He looked at the Vanishing Cabinet, _right behind her._

‘Well?’ she demanded, imperially.

He looked her up and down, nodding bitterly. Now he understood. She had seduced him in order to get close to him. To find out his secret!

‘Are you _spying_ on me, Granger?’ he snapped.

She blinked. ‘Wait… What?’

‘Are you following me around?’ He took her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘ _Answer me!_ ’

‘What? No!’ she yelled, struggling. ‘Let go of me!’

Her pretty brown eyes flashed fiercely at him. She seemed genuinely distraught. Just as she had been last night, when she found out who he really was.

Suddenly, he was very aware of how close he was holding her. He quickly released her and stepped back. ‘Oh. Sorry, I thought…’ He glanced at the Cabinet and shook his head. There was no ploy. She had never meant to sleep with him. It had all just been a terrible mistake.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, a little out of breath.

He tried to shake off the empty feeling that welled up inside of him. ‘Nothing.’ He searched her eyes, looking for… he didn’t know what. ‘I’m just a bit confused, that’s all.’

She laughed disdainfully. ‘I know the feeling.’

His stomach sank. Of course, what had he expected? That she would fall into his arms, madly in love? He swallowed. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. And he realised there was one thing he _had_ to know.

‘Last night…’ he began.

Hermione sighed. ‘God, do we really have to do this?’

‘Just answer me one thing: did you think I was him?’

‘Who?’

‘Potter, of course,’ he spat. ‘Who else?’

She didn’t answer, but the expression on her face told him what he needed to know. He scoffed. A small ripple from the wave that was crushing him deep within. The notion she had mistaken him for Potter, that all those things she had said and done were actually meant for that git, was insufferable. Somehow, it felt worse than the idea she had tried to trick him. He would rather for it all to have been a lie, than to have witnessed the things Potter received from her in truth.

‘What about you?’ she cut through his thoughts. ‘I bet you thought I was Pansy, didn’t you?’ 

This took him by surprise. Why would she care about that? ‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘Well, maybe in the very beginning, but…’ He frowned. The comparison with Pansy was so ludicrous he couldn’t even crystalize it into a defined thought. ‘You are very… _different_ from her,’ he tried to explain.

‘Different?’

He scoffed. ‘Pansy would never behave the way you did.’

Her eyes grew big, and a violent blush spread across her face. He realised she thought he had wanted to insult her.

‘No, not like that… Hermione, that’s not what I meant.’ He took a step in her direction.

She recoiled, her back almost against the Vanishing Cabinet. His stomach jolted uncomfortably. The cabinet was like a flashing beacon, advertising his guilt. She was moments away from discovering _everything_. And yet that was not what he was most nervous about right now…

He looked into her eyes and their gazes locked. 

But then she coldly turned her shoulder to him. ‘I suppose you’ve told your friends all about the sordid thing that happened between us last night, _Malfoy_?’ She couldn’t have sounded more repulsed. 

_She hates me. Of course she does. She always has. Why would last night have changed anything? All that wasn’t meant for me. It’s never meant for me…_

‘Well, have you?’ she insisted.

In the pit of Draco’s stomach, something turned into stone. ‘No,’ he replied icily.

She frowned, turning towards him again. ‘No?’ she echoed.

He wanted to hurt her. To make her ache like he was aching now. So he lifted his chin and said: ‘If you think I’d divulge the fact I’ve let myself be seduced by a filthy Mudblood, you’re even stupider than I thought.’ He saw something shimmer in her eyes. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to make her _bleed_. ‘Even if she gave a performance worthy of a pro.’

Hermione contorted her face as if he had just struck her. She stepped further away, the Vanishing Cabinet slamming into her back. Draco winced, the tension inside of him reaching a flashpoint. He grabbed her by the upper-arms and whirled her around. ‘Get out of here, you little slut,’ he hissed, desperate to drive her away. ‘Get back to your Gryffindor goody-goodies and your Chosen One. Put up your innocent-virgin act for them. Instead of filling my head with lies that were intended for Potter. You _revolt_ me.’

Her face was inches from his now. He watched on helplessly, as tears streamed down her cheeks. This was what he had wanted. Yet seeing it felt like his heart was being ripped out. Why wouldn’t she just _leave_? Stop this infernal suffering? 

‘Get out of here.’ He choked the words out of his throat. ‘ _Fuck off, now!!!_ ’

With a shriek, she turned around and ran. 

As the door slammed shut, Draco grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and closed his eyes. He stood like that for a while, breathing hard, while his emotions raged within him. When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the Vanishing Cabinet. A violent urge to blow the bloody thing into a million pieces surged through him.

But instead of grabbing his wand, he turned his back to the Cabinet.

He couldn’t do any work on it today. Nor suffer through any more classes, for that matter. He was… _unwell_.

He left the Room and made for the Slytherin Dungeon.


	2. Chapter 2

He was in the Ministry again. In that awful courtroom, down below. The place was packed. The entire Wizengamot had assembled. No one wanted to be left out of a trial of this magnitude. There were a lot of spectators too. Wizards and witches that had been standing in line since morning, eager to witness the shame of the Malfoys. After all, who could resist seeing the mighty fall?

Draco kept his eyes in front of him, ignoring the prying looks, while hatred burned in his chest. His mother was sitting next to him, clutching his arm. She looked regal as ever, dressed in her finest suit, her head held high. But there were tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, and he could feel her nails digging into his flesh.

In the middle of the circle, the focal point of the attention, sat his father. His arms and legs were chained to his chair, and even his neck had an iron collar around it. Four Aurors stood around him, wands drawn.

The courtroom grew silent, as the Chief Warlock prepared to read the final verdict.

‘Lucius Malfoy,’ he thundered. ‘We, the Wizengamot, feel your guilt has been proven beyond reasonable doubt.’

Draco could feel the words reverberate inside of him. They hammered against his ribs in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

‘Lucius Malfoy, for your heinous crimes, we hereby sentence you to life in Azkaban.’

A shiver passed through his mother’s body. Her grip lost all its strength. When Draco put his hand on top of hers, her bones felt like a little bird’s.

The audience erupted in a chaos of gasps and cheers. Somehow, the press had gotten inside, and there was a skirmish near the doors.

Through the blinding lights of camera’s flashing, Draco looked at his father. There was something in his eyes he had never seen there before.

_Fear…_

And suddenly, _he_ was sitting in the chair of the accused. The reporters were gone, the audience was gone, and the Wizengamot now consisted solely of his fellow students at Hogwarts. They were all looking at him. The courtroom was dead silent again. Shadows billowed through the black, cavernous space like mist.

The Chief Warlock approached a pulpit that looked just like the one at Hogwarts. With a shock, Draco identified Dumbledore. The Headmaster didn’t say anything, but Draco felt himself shrink under the look in the old wizard’s eyes. Slowly, the collected Wizengamot rose to its feet. An army of people clad in identical black robes, their faces shrouded in shadows, all pointing straight at him now. Accusing him. 

Then a sound rang through the silence. A woman's voice, crying. The quiet, broken sobs echoed against the walls of the courtroom. 

Draco looked up, expecting to see his mother sitting there. But she was gone. A girl in a Hogwarts school uniform had taken her place. His stomach jolted when he thought he recognised Katie Bell. But then the shadows lifted, and he saw it was Hermione. She seemed isolated, the crowd having parted around her; the only figure that was sitting down; the only one not dressed in black. Her shoulders shook as she wept, with that same hurt, disappointed expression on her face she’d had in the Room of Hidden Things.

Draco wanted to go to her, to console her, but his chains didn’t allow him to.

Hermione raised her hand, trembling, and pointed at him like the others did.

 

*

 

He awoke feeling even more wretched than he had done before he fell asleep. The glimpse of light was gone. Hermione only added to the darkness, now. Another character in his nightmares. Another element to take into account. As if there weren’t enough already…


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days, Draco hovered between hope and fear, expecting to be apprehended at any moment. But apparently he had overestimated Granger. No one came for him. She hadn’t been able to put two and two together.

 _Or maybe she just didn’t want to,_ he thought bitterly, as Hermione turned her head from him in class. _She’s probably blocked the entire night of the Masquerade from her mind._

It was gutting, having to hide inside himself again. It felt so much colder there, so much lonelier, than before. ‘I’ll always be there for you,’ she had told him. And she had meant it too. How cruel of her, to show him how things could have been.

_If my name had been Potter, instead of Malfoy..._

Draco's hatred for the Chosen One had reached an all-time high. His father was in Azkaban because of that prat. But it was more than that. Everything just seemed to come so easy to Potter. Famous before he even set foot at Hogwarts. Always in the middle of things. Dumbledore’s favourite, the youngest Quidditch Seeker in a century, a contestant in the Triwizard Tournament…

 _And loved by the most beautiful girl in school._

Draco scoffed. It was all so typical. So _disgustingly_ perfect.

‘What’s the matter, Draco?’

‘Hm?’

‘You’re miles away,’ said Pansy. ‘What are you thinking of?’

‘Nothing.’

They were sitting on the couch in the Slytherin common room, in front of the fireplace.

‘Does it have to do with…’ She bowed her head, looking at him from underneath her eyebrows. ‘ _You-know-who?_ ’

Draco gave her a disdainful look.

‘Well, what is it then?’ she complained, disappointed. ‘Lately, I get the impression that you… well, that you’re avoiding me, or something.’

‘Nonsense.’

Two first year Slytherins came walking in. ‘Out!’ screeched Pansy. ‘We’re talking here.’

The kids turned on their heels and hurried off.

‘You _are_ avoiding me, Draco,’ she continued seamlessly, her tone sugary again. ‘You often disappear for hours on end. Where do you go when you do that? I can never find you.’

‘Does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I?’

She set her jaw. ‘Is there someone else?’ she demanded. 

‘Of course not.’ It came out far too defensively.

Pansy’s eyes grew big. ‘There is, isn’t there?’

‘I told you: no.’

‘Is it that _whore_ , Daphne?’

He frowned. 'I thought Daphne was your friend?’

‘Not if she’s fooling around with you, she’s not!’

‘Jesus, Pans…’ he sighed, putting his head in his neck. He was so sick of her incessant nagging. Everything she said and did seemed to come straight out of a copy of _Teen Witch_. What to do when your boyfriend says this, ten ways to get your boyfriend to do that… It drove him up the wall.

_Nothing like Hermione..._

The memory jabbed into him like a knife. ‘I don’t have time for your games, Pansy,’ he snarled. He wanted to get up, but she grabbed him by the sleeve.

‘No! Please, don’t go. I got a bit carried away, that’s all.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry, honey.’ 

He hesitated. ‘You should know better than to doubt me,’ he berated her.

‘Yes, of course. Only… you seem so distant of late. Even when we kiss, it feels like you’re holding back.’ The sadness in her smile became genuine. She raised her shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘I just don’t know what to do anymore.’ She lay her hand on his arm and whispered, with an imploring look: ‘Why won’t you let me _in_ , Draco?’

Her honesty surprised him. She had never spoken to him so sincerely before. It awoke some of the old sparks in the pit of his stomach. He remembered he had been very fond of her once. Not even that long ago. On paper they were a perfect match. If he was the king of Slytherin, she was undoubtedly the queen. She was pretty, from an old infamous family, and she worshipped the ground he walked on. Maybe he had never really given her a fair chance. She _was_ here. And she wanted him. That was more than could be said about Granger.

‘I’ve got a lot on my mind, lately,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’

Pansy smiled. She moved closer to him. He noticed her blouse was unbuttoned just a little bit too far. Her smile became coy as she trailed her index-finger along his throat. He let her kiss him. It felt good. Comforting. The sparks in his stomach flared up and he moved towards her, taking over the initiative. When he deepened the kiss, she let out a sigh and opened her mouth obediently, meeting his tongue with hers. It sent a shiver up his spine. He pulled her closer and ran his hand over her waist, squeezing it gently. Then he went further down along her leg until he reached the bare skin of her knee. He circled his thumb over it. She sighed again and moved her mouth to his neck. He breathed out, closing his eyes as she started kissing him there. An image of Hermione formed in his head, but he used all of his willpower to push it away. That wasn’t real. This was. He caressed Pansy’s hair and trailed his other hand upwards, under her skirt. He squeezed the inside of her thigh. She moaned, and he found her mouth again. They kissed more frantically now. He moved his hand higher still. But when he touched the fabric of her panties, she pulled back with a jolt.

‘What’s the matter?’ he whispered, kissing her earlobe.

She leaned her head against his. ‘I told you, I- I’m not ready for that kind of thing, yet.’

‘Come on, Pans,’ he insisted. ‘This is getting ridiculous. We’ve been going out since the summer.’

‘I know, but…’

He stopped kissing her and sat back with an annoyed sigh. ‘You always do this,’ he scolded. ‘Stir me up and then leave me hanging. Why are you so ill at ease with me?’

‘Draco…’

He shrugged her hand off his shoulder and turned away. ‘No, it’s fine. Just forget about it.’

They sat like that for a while, side by side, staring into the flames.

‘Look,’ Pansy began. ‘I know I’ve kept you waiting a little…’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Okay, a long while,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s not easy. Not for a girl, anyway. To do _that_ with someone, I mean. Especially… especially if it’s the first time.’ She went bright red.

It was so out of character for her, Draco almost smiled. Immediately, he felt like an utter prat. After all, it wasn't Pansy's fault she didn’t know what it felt like when you were truly in love. To experience the whole world falling away, until there was just the two of you left. That there was no hesitation then. First time or not. Only the desire to be as close to each other as possible. 

In a way, he felt sorry for her. She was just as oblivious as he had been, a few days ago.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered, touching her cheek in a rare display of affection. ‘You take as much time as you need, all right?’

‘Oh, Draco,’ she drawled, relieved. ‘You’re so sweet.’ She moved closer to him again. Their lips touched, and this time she moved his hand up her skirt herself.

The sound of footsteps interrupted them. ‘I told you to get out!’ Pansy snapped. But when she turned her head, she relaxed again. ‘Oh, it’s you, Blaise.’

‘Go to the dormitory if you don’t want to be disturbed,’ Zabini said indifferently. Without any scruples, he sat down beside them.

‘What are you doing in your dress robes?’ Draco frowned. Pansy was still leaning against him, both arms around his neck.

‘Slughorn’s having a Christmas party,’ Zabini answered. ‘Only for members of the Club, of course.’ He sent Draco a malicious smile.

‘Sounds boring,’ Pansy commented quickly, when she noticed Draco’s expression.

‘Maybe,’ answered Zabini. ‘But anyone who’s anyone will be there.’

‘You’re not referring to Potter, surely,’ Draco spat. 

‘As far as Slughorn is concerned, he’s the guest of honour.’

Draco scoffed. ‘The old fool’s come off it.’

‘Who’s he taking?’ Pansy inquired. ‘Potter, I mean.’

‘The Mudblood Granger, of course,’ Draco muttered. 

‘No, silly,’ laughed Pansy. ‘ _She_ ’s taking McLaggen.’

‘ _McLaggen_?’

Pansy nodded. ‘Haven’t you heard? It’s been buzzing around school for days now. Him and Granger are an item.’

Draco couldn’t believe it. ‘What does she want with that poser?!’

‘I don’t know,’ smiled Pansy, a little baffled by his passionate reaction. ‘But Granger always seems to go for the athletic types, doesn’t she? First Krum, now McLaggen. Pretty soon she’ll have worked her way through an entire Quidditch team, hee hee!’

Blaise smiled lazily. ‘That’s breeding for you. What do you expect from a Mudblood? No class. Even the bookwormy types are complete tarts.’

Pansy laughed loudly. ‘Oh, Blaise, you _are_ wicked!’

Draco failed to see the humour in the situation. ‘But what about _Potter_ then?’ he insisted.

Pansy blinked. ‘What’s wrong, honey? You’re white as a sheet. Does it matter who Potter’s taking?’ She frowned and even Blaise seemed mildly curious.

Draco jumped up from the couch as if stung.

‘Where are you going?’ Pansy started. ‘Draco? _Draco!_ ’

But he left the room without looking back.

 

*

 

Could he really have been that mistaken? Could that night have been meant for McLaggen, instead of Potter?

He shook his head. No, there was no way. McLaggen was a complete idiot. He embodied everything Hermione stood against. Arrogant, vile, full of himself; and a player of the worst kind.

The only thing he had going for him was that he was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. 

_She wouldn’t be that prejudiced, would she?_

Draco had been planning to work on the Vanishing Cabinet tonight, but now that was out of the question. He needed to know what was the deal with Hermione and McLaggen first.

‘Are you invited?’ Longbottom was standing by the door in a waiter’s uniform.

‘That’s none of your concern,’ Draco snarled, and he pushed Neville aside.

It was busy. Most people were already here. It was a fancy do, Draco noticed begrudgingly. He grabbed a glass from a tray and downed it in one, all the while scanning the room. He didn’t see her anywhere. He had come here on an impulse, but now he wondered what he was going to say to her if he actually found her.

 _Nothing_ , he thought. _I just want to witness it with my own eyes before drawing any conclusions._ He couldn’t rely on Pansy’s daft gossip.

‘Excuse me. Have you by any chance seen Harry?’ a dreamy voice floated up from his left hand side. He turned and saw Loony Lovegood standing there, in an impossible fabrication that was supposed to be a dress of some sort.

‘Harry?’ he repeated.

‘Yes, Harry Potter. You know him, don’t you? I left him to go to the bathroom, but now I can’t find him anywhere.’

Draco stared at her. Loony Lovegood. That was who Potter had brought. What the hell was going on?!

With a disdainful scoff, he turned his back to her and started walking away.

‘Ok, thank you!’ he heard her call after him.

Feeling increasingle bewildered, Draco made for the other side of the room. He was in dire need of some fresh air.

Silky curtains billowed from the open balcony doors. There were silhouettes moving behind them. He stepped through, and there they were. Granger and Potter, in the midst of a lively conversation. 

That stopped abruptly, though, when they noticed him standing there. 

Hermione’s eyes grew dark, an unreadable emotion shimmering in them. She moved closer to Potter and grabbed his arm, as if looking for support. It happened completely naturally. Instinctively, almost.

It was an image that said more than a thousand words. 

Draco felt like he was going to be sick. He gave the two of them a look of utter disgust, and turned around.

‘What was that all about?’ he heard Potter ask. He didn’t catch her response. 

When he walked back inside he almost bumped into McLaggen. ‘Watch where you’re going, you fool!’ he snapped, this time furious at McLaggen for _not_ being with Hermione. All logic seemed to have left him. He could feel himself spinning out of control. He cut through the crowd, desperate for the exit. But then someone grabbed his arm, and the chaos ended abruptly.

‘I don’t believe you received an invitation, Mr. Malfoy?’

There was only one person that voice could belong to.

Draco looked into the black eyes of Snape.

‘Professor,’ he answered icily.

He noticed Longbottom standing behind him. The little snitch!

‘Let me escort you out,’ Snape said, in a tone like he was going to perform a boring yet necessary murder.

Draco felt his stomach sink. He had been trying to avoid Snape as much as possible since the beginning of the school year. He glanced around the room. Everybody was staring at him. Near the doors towards the balcony stood Hermione and Potter. Him looking more and more intrigued, she still holding his arm…

 

*

 

‘Maybe I hexed that Bell girl, maybe I didn’t. What’s it to you?’ Draco hissed.

Snape pushed him up against the wall of the deserted corridor. ‘I swore to protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow.’

‘I don’t need protection. I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me! I won’t fail him.’

‘You’re afraid, Draco. You try to conceal it but it’s obvious. Let me assist you.’

‘No! This is _my_ moment.’

He tore loose from Snape’s grip, and left him standing there as he walked on out of the corridor. An action that would have been infathomable a year ago. But then lots of things were…  



	4. Chapter 4

He was lying in the four poster bed in the Room of Requirement. He was naked, except for the mask on his face. He couldn’t move. Heavy black chains twisted around his body and neck, holding him down. Even raising his chest to breathe was difficult. Next to the bed stood Hermione and Potter. Motionless, expressionless, just watching him. Hermione was holding Potter’s arm.

‘Is it him?’ Hermione asked, unmoved.

‘I don’t know,’ Potter answered. ‘I can’t be sure.’

‘Look closely. It’s important.’

Potter tilted his head. His eyes trailed across Draco’s exposed body.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Hermione insisted, and this time she sounded a little breathless.

Next to him, Draco felt something stir. The sheets rustled, and Katie Bell appeared, bleary-eyed and hair all tousled, like she had just woken up.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, when she saw Harry and Hermione standing there. ‘Draco and I were just in the middle of something.’

Hermione clutched Potter’s arm a little tighter. 

‘It _is_ him!’ she hissed, pointing at the Dark Mark that writhed and crawled on his skin as if alive.

Potter frowned. Then he shook his head and smiled: ‘No, don’t worry. It’s only shadows. See?’ And he moved his wand in the air over Draco’s body. Everywhere it passed, deep black cuts started to appear. Across Draco'sstomach, his chest, his arms and even his face. Draco tried to scream, but the chain around his neck didn’t allow it. The cuts grew wider, really splitting the flesh now. There was no blood. Only shadows that spiraled up from the wounds like dark smoke, as his body slowly evaporated into nothingness.

Hermione sighed, relieved, and turned to Potter with a smile. ‘Thanks, Harry,’ she whispered. ‘I can always count on you.’

 

*

 

Draco woke up and caught the scream just before it left his throat.

He was breathing hard, soaked in sweat. 

In the bed across from his he heard Blaise move in his sleep.

He swallowed and struggled back the tears. 

This was definitely the worst one yet...


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas break came, and with it, more anxiety. As the Hogwarts Express slowly wound its way through the winter landscape, Draco’s uneasiness grew. He was glad to leave school and all its troubles behind him for a while, but at the same time his immediate future worried him. He was nowhere with the Vanishing Cabinet yet. In fact, he was completely stuck. And the plan with the necklace had backfired too. In the meantime, he had no real results to present. During the semester, he had been relatively safe in that respect. Voldemort couldn’t access Hogwarts. Not yet, anyway. Nor could any of the known Death Eaters. But at the Manor, things would be different.

He wondered if he was to expect a new visit.

A shiver ran down Draco’s spine when he remembered that moment, last summer, when he and the Dark Lord had made their acquaintance. It had been so strange to look into that impossible face, part snake, part man, a face the whole Wizarding world feared. ‘Draco…’ Voldemort had hissed. The tone was hard to interpret. Contemplative, or was it sarcastic? ‘Your father had high hopes for you, choosing a name like that. The dragon is the most glorious of all dark beasts.’ He tilted his head. ‘Is that what you are, a dragon?’ 

Draco hadn’t known what to answer to that. He had been too busy coming to terms with the fact Lord Voldemort was actually there, in his house. 

‘It’s certainly a better name than Lucius.’ Voldemort’s cold eyes stared into Draco’s. ‘Are you better than your father?’

Behind Voldemort, Draco could see his mother. She stood frozen to the spot, her eyes full of fear. But Aunt Bella’s sparkled with a mad fire. ‘Say yes, Draco…’ she breathed.

Draco looked at Voldemort again. And he nodded, ever so slightly.

The tiniest of smiles crossed Voldemort’s face. ‘I think you might be, yes. Lucius was one of my truest followers, but in the end he couldn’t stay faithful. I went away and he forgot about me. And now he went and got himself locked up. I think I might just have to forget about him too.’

Bellatrix uttered a cackling laugh, but she stopped abruptly after a withering look from her sister.

‘Now, now, we mustn’t laugh at that, Bella,’ Voldemort mocked. ‘Although I must admit it’s all rather… poetic.’ This time the smile on his face was wide. It was insupportable to witness.

‘I could help your father, Draco,’ said he, suddenly serious again. He stepped closer, and Draco could feel the power coming off of him. It was like a dark force field. As if the air itself was denser around him. ‘If you show that you are worthy, I will forgive your family. The Malfoys will be great once more. And when I rule the world, you will be at my right hand side.’

‘I’m worthy, my lord,’ Draco had answered. The words seemed to have left his mouth all on their own. And at the time, he had meant every single one. Voldemort was right. There was a part of the dragon within him. And it had felt good to finally let it spread its wings.

‘Very well,’ whispered Voldemort. He took out his wand. ‘Come closer then, Draco Malfoy. I will give you a great honour, never before bestowed upon one so young...’

The whistle of the train wailed, and Draco closed his eyes. He leant his head against the glass of the window. Underneath the bandage, the Dark Mark burned like it had done when Voldemort had scorched it into his flesh. He bit his lip and weathered the pain, until the memory finally subsided. It was peculiar. The Mark seemed like a living creature at times, interacting with his thoughts and emotions. 

_A parasite…_

He resisted the irrational urge to tear off the bandage and scratch at the Mark until it bled. The effort would have been useless. It wouldn’t come off that way, nor any other way. It would never come off again.

Draco opened his eyes and saw Pansy glancing back at him from the front of the carriage, where the rest of his friends were sitting. When she noticed he had seen her, she quickly turned her head again. No doubt she was fretting over the fact he had wanted to be alone during the train ride.

He sighed. It was high time he broke things off with her. He had more important stuff to deal with than the feelings of some stupid schoolgirl. She had no clue what he was going through. 

_That’s because you won’t tell her about it,_ a little voice in his head spoke.

He scoffed. That would be pointless. Pansy’d never understand. Besides, he couldn’t. His mission was of the utmost secret. Even his mother wasn’t in the loop about everything.

There was really only one person he wanted to tell. Who he had almost told, in fact…

_Hermione fucking Granger._

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated her for not wanting him. For preferring Potter. Still, it was comforting to know he had beaten the Chosen One to the punch. He, Draco Malfoy, had been her first. Her virginity would be his forever. She could never take that back again.

He grinned at the idea, but then felt guilty about doing so, which made him even angrier. Why couldn’t he just get her out of his head? He thought about her day and night. It was interfering with everything he did. The desire to touch her, to feel the warmth of her body against his, was so great it physically hurt. Like being hungry, or thirsty. Even here, on the train, he had unconsciously wondered where she was and what she was doing.

‘Will you miss me, Draco?’ Pansy asked, when the Express rolled into the station. She hooked her arm in his as they waited to step down onto the platform.

‘Of course.’

She looked up at him and he realised he wouldn’t get rid of her without a proper kiss goodbye. He lifted her chin and fleetingly pressed his lips against hers. 

It seemed to have been satisfactory. She beamed at him, wished him a good vacation and then thankfully buggered off.

But his relief was short-lived. 

When Draco discovered his mother standing on the platform, the pained look on her face made him want to turn around and jump right back on the train again.


	6. Chapter 6

The Manor seemed even more cold and somber than usual. Like it had been hollowed out, without Lucius' presence.

‘I’ve received word from the Ministry,’ Narcissa spoke, as she and Draco sat across from each other during supper. The empty spot at the head of the table was like an eye-sore. ‘We’re allowed a visit on Christmas day.’

Draco didn’t look up from his soup. He nodded. It would be the first time he would see his father since his imprisonment. Azkaban… 

They sat together in silence for a while.

Narcissa took a deep breath. ‘Draco,’ she started, and by her pleading tone he knew what she was going to say next. ‘Why won’t you let professor Snape help you?’

Draco stifled a sigh.

His mother tried to make eye-contact. ‘I’m sure your father would want this too.’

He scoffed, looking away. ‘I seriously doubt that.’ 

‘Severus can protect you.’ Narcissa’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Take over your task, even.’

Draco put down his spoon. He hadn’t been hungry before, but now his appetite was completely gone. ‘Will you stop about Snape? I’ve told you a thousand times: I don’t want him interfering!’

She reached across the table, but he pulled his hand away from her like she had a disease.

‘What’s the matter?’ she started, sounding even more worried now. ‘Can’t I touch you anymore?’

Draco felt a pang of guilt. ‘I’m sorry, mother,’ he whispered. ‘But you shouldn’t have meddled in my affairs. It has only made things worse. Please understand. I have to do this on my own.’ 

He excused himself and left the table.

 

*

 

He didn’t know how he got to sleep that night, but somehow he did. 

This time the nightmare was a sneaky one, for it had disguised itself as a good dream.

He was lying in his bed. Outside, the sun was shining. The windows were wide open and the scent of summer filled the room.

Hermione turned to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. ‘Good morning,’ she whispered, a little shy. She was wearing ivory silk and the sun gave her brown eyes a golden shine.

He reached out and touched her cheek. ‘Good morning, sweetheart.’

‘Did you sleep well?’

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘How could I not, with such a beauty by my side.’

She rolled her eyes at him for making such a corny remark, but her smile told him she liked it all too well.

He smiled too. It welled up from somewhere deep inside him. He could feel it all throughout his body. When was the last time he had smiled like that? He leant in and kissed her. Her lips were soft and welcoming. The wet tip of her tongue dipped into his mouth for just a second, and his stomach jolted. He pulled her closer. She was soft and supple and still warm with sleep. He ran his fingertips over her arm and grabbed hold of a breast. She sighed in his mouth and he exhaled too. She pushed her body more tightly against his. He was straining for her, and she started grinding into him while he kneaded her breast. Her skin was so soft he couldn’t tell where the silk started and she began.

He pulled her nighty out over her head and took a moment to revel in her beauty. Corny as it may have sounded, he had meant every word of what he had just said. She was glorious. Classy, beautiful, sexy. There was no other way to describe her.

Suddenly, he had to have her. All of her. He couldn’t wait a minute longer.

He covered her mouth with his, kissed her cheekbone, her neck and throat. She moaned and gasped as his hands felt their way over her body. He wished he could be everywhere at once. Feel every part of her, every curve, drink in every sweet detail. 

‘Draco…’ she breathed, combing her fingers through his hair.

‘I need you,’ he whispered. ‘Please, Hermione, I need you so much…’

She moaned, her body relaxing and tensing up at the same time. They pushed and pulled at each other, kissing, nipping, biting. Not knowing what to do first, which direction to take to get as close to each other as possible as quickly as possible. He was on his back now, and she trailed her tongue from the dimple under his throat to his chest and then further downward. He shook when she closed her lips around his cock. The warmth of her mouth seemed to surround his whole being. The sensation was almost too much, but what could he do but surrender? Panting, he lay there while she pleasured him. With each bob of her head she went a little further, took him inside a little deeper, until he was all the way in. Her tongue flicked out, wet and nimble, drawing circles on his skin. He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled at her shoulders and she let go of him in one long, unbearable movement. She came back up and they looked into each other’s eyes, just like they had done that very first time. Then, slowly, she moved backwards and sat down on top of him. 

The need to hurry was gone. Both of them were exactly where they wanted to be. Hermione leant forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Cheek to cheek, they started making love. Draco closed his eyes. He could feel the muscles in her thighs flexing, her breasts brushing against his chest. And inside of her, that little ridge he was rubbing, that perfect fit. ‘Don’t ever leave me,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t ever stop doing this.’

Without breaking the rhythm, she put her forehead against his. A fleeting smile crossed her face. ‘Don’t worry,’ she panted. ‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘Promise me.’

‘I promise.’

They kissed with open mouths, long and slow, and then ever hungrier. He wanted to devour her, to integrate her into himself. He moved his upper-body forward until they were both sitting up. She wrapped her legs around him. Her arms were still around his neck. ‘Oh!!!’ she gasped, when he took a nipple in his mouth. She closed her eyes and titled her head back. He didn’t stay long, though. He wanted everything, all at the same time. He kissed her sternum, licked the salty skin of her neck. She pushed him back down, one hand on his chest. Then she grabbed his hands and intertwined her fingers with his. She started riding him with slow, precise movements. They smiled at each other, and in that instant, Draco knew he’d never be this happy again.

The realisation was like a chill thatsuddenly swept over him; a dark shadow that covered them both. He remembered the promise she’d just made, and in his head it shattered like glass. Instinctively he tightened his grip on her hands, frightened she would leave. She looked down at him, and her brow furrowed.

‘Draco!’ she panted, her eyes wide with fear. 

The panic in her voice struck him. He followed her gaze and saw the Mark on his arm, thick and black and alive. It was squirming, rippling like a flag.

She wanted to pull her hand back. But he kept holding on tightly. 

‘Let go!’ she yelped, terrified. ‘Please, Draco, let go of me!’

He tried to. He really did. But he couldn’t. His other hand wouldn’t let go either. It was like Hermione was glued to him. They couldn’t even stop making love. Her hips were still moving, her moans deep and guttural now, like a person in agony. 

‘Help me!’ she begged, but there was nothing he could do.

The Mark circled his arm like a snake. Slowly, sneakily, it slithered downward towards their joined hands.

‘Please, no!!!’ Hermione yelled.

It crossed over from his hand to hers. Blood started dripping from her underarm, as the Mark clawed and gnawed its way into her, tainting her pure, soft flesh.

A word appeared, written in scarlet. 

Draco’s eyes stung from the sweat that covered him now, but it was unmistakable. 

‘MUDBLOOD’

Hermione let out a long, piercing scream.

 

*

 

Draco awoke with a start, Hermione’s scream still ringing in his ears. It chilled him to the bone. Even more so than the eyes that were boring into his now, not even two inches away.

‘Bad dream?’ a mock innocent voice asked.

‘Aunt Bella,’ he whispered.

She grinned. ‘Penny for your thoughts!’

And then she plunged into his mind, raw and brutal.

He blocked her off with one, big swoop. It was so powerful a pressure wave passed through the room, making the air ripple.

Bellatrix drew back. She blinked for a moment, tilting her head. ‘Impressive,’ she whispered. ‘I see my lessons in Occlumency haven’t gone to waste.’ Her grin grew wider as she took in his dishevelled state. ‘What a pity. I would’ve loved to know what you were thinking of, just now.’ She reached out and readjusted a stray lock of his hair, her eyes travelling downward.

Draco instinctively moved back. He thanked his lucky stars that it was winter and the thick blanket was on the bed. Quickly, he scanned the room. It was morning, but the sun wasn’t shining. It was snowing outside. The fire in the hearth crackled. There was a fine sprinkle of ash on the sheets, from Bellatrix’ clothes. Draco surprised himself. It took him no more than a second or two to regain his composure. He was still breathing hard, but when he answered her, his voice sounded cool and collected. ‘You’ve taught me well, aunt. Not even Snape himself managed to break into my thoughts.’

Her grin disappeared. ‘ _Snape_ ,’ she spat. She jumped up from the bed with an irritated gesture. ‘Your mother was a fool, getting him involved.’

Draco lifted an eyebrow. ‘It's a hassle. But I’ve managed to avoid him for the most part.’

Bellatrix turned around and pointed her crooked wand at him. ‘Good. You mustn’t trust him, Draco. Snape isn’t true to the cause. I can feel it.’

‘What does…’ He hesitated. ‘…the Dark Lord say?’

She hissed disapprovingly. ‘He isn’t convinced. Yet. He thinks he needs Snape. Him being so trusted by Dumbledore and all.’

Draco’s stomach twinged when he heard the headmaster’s name.

Bellatrix gave him a hungry smile. ‘But we’ve got someone else inside Hogwarts now.’ She licked her lips. ‘How are things coming along, dear nephew?’ She sat back down and moved uncomfortably close again. ‘Our Master is eager to know.’

Draco’s throat felt dry. ‘Very well,’ he lied, seemingly unmoved. ‘The Vanishing Cabinet will be ready any day now.’

Bellatrix hopped up and down, clapping her hands in excitement, like a five-year old at a birthday party, making the matress squeak. ‘I can hardly wait!’ But then her face and tone grew dark again. ‘Remember, though: heed Snape,’ she snapped, seemlessly flipping from one emotion to the other. ‘You mustn’t let that halfblood steal your thunder. This glory will go to us Blacks!’

Draco gave her a cold look from underneath his eyebrows. ‘You can count on me, aunt Bella,' he assured her.

She leant in and pecked a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. ‘Sweet boy.’ Then she got up from the bed and said casually: ‘Give my regards to Cissy.’

A moment later she was gone, swooshed away in the fireplace.  
 


	7. Chapter 7

Draco wandered through the Manor, lost in thought, restless.

He knew he had been lucky. If a visit from aunt Bella at an inopportune moment was all he was to expect from Voldemort for the time being, he should count his blessings. 

_And she didn’t discover Hermione_ , he thought. _She saw nothing in my mind. I’m sure of it._

But that scream… 

He slouched down in his father’s armchair and closed his eyes. The sound of Hermione’s pain and fear still reverberated within him. It had seemed so life-like. So real. He couldn’t shake the feeling the nightmare had been much more, this time. 

_A premonition…_

A shiver crept up Draco’s spine. He gritted his teeth. If this was true, Hermione could be in trouble. Maybe something had happened to her. His brow furrowed. The more he thought about it, the more worried he got.

‘Is that what you’re going to wear?’ Narcissa asked.

‘Hm?’ Draco looked up.

His mother was checking her make-up in the mirror above the fireplace. She was all dressed up, in a green velvet gown. 

‘We’re expected at the Greengrasses,’ she said, looking at him via the mirror. ‘They invited us to spend Christmas Eve with them, remember?’

Draco sighed. The Greengrasses. Perfect. Pansy was already obsessing about him and Daphne. If she found out they had spent Christmas Eve together, there would be hell to pay. 

Besides, there was something else he needed to do right now.

‘I’m not going,’ he announced.

‘Oh, but Draco, you have to!’ His mother turned around, eyes wide with disappointment. ‘I don’t want to spend Christmas without you too.’

He knew what she meant, but he simply couldn’t. One more minute without knowing if she was all right and he would go mad. ‘I’m sorry, mother. I’m just not feeling up to it. You go along without me.’

She sighed. ‘I don’t know, Draco…’

He came and stood beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders. Together, they looked into the mirror. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need some time by myself. To think about things.’

‘I feel I should stay with you,’ she hesitated.

‘Go out. Have fun. We’ll visit him in the morning.’

She gave him a sad smile.

He pressed a kiss on her temple. ‘You look beautiful.’

 

*

 

Once his mother had left, Draco returned to his bedroom. He pulled the drawers of his desk open and rummaged through them. Just when he was starting to despair, he found the list they had received at the beginning of the school year. His eyes flew over the parchment. Goodyear, Gore, Goyle, Graff, _Granger_ …

“Coronation Street, 145 A, Heathgate, Hampstead”

He raised his eyebrows. Coronation street. Sounded fancy enough, for a Muggle neighbourhood. He let out a sigh. God, was he really going to do this?

Hermione’s scream echoed through his mind.

Draco tore the address from the list, grabbed his coat and headed downstairs to get his broomstick.

 

*

 

Hermione didn’t live too far from London. He had considered using the Floo network to get to Diagon Alley first and then head out from there, but finally decided against it. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him there and following him. It was a dark night, and everyone was inside for Christmas Eve. His broom was his best bet at remaining undiscovered.

It was a long way, but he didn’t mind. He had always enjoyed flying, and thankfully it had stopped snowing. He actually welcomed the cold wind in his face. It cleared his mind and for the first time in a long while he felt like he could breathe a little.

But when he arrived at his destination, he pulled a face. He had been mistaken in thinking Coronation Street would be fancy. 

_God, what a hovel!_ he thought, as he carefully circled the house from above. Even the gatekeeper’s cottage at the Manor was larger. Did all Muggles live like this? He realised he really had no clue. He felt his stomach sink. This was a brutal reminder of how different he and Hermione were. They came from two separate worlds. He imagined what introducing her to his parents would be like. A girl of her financial means. Of her convictions. Of her… _lineage_.

He scowled. They would never approve of her. And maybe they were right. He was delusional if he thought he and Hermione could ever make it work. 

Headlights turning into the street jerked him from his thoughts. Quickly, he sent his broom down and landed in the bushes across the street. From there he had a good view, without the risk of being seen himself.

The Muggle car-contraption drove up to the house and pulled into the driveway. Its tail lights went out, and there she was. She had apparently done some last minute Christmas shopping with her parents, because they were all carrying bags and things. She was chatting and laughing cheerfully. She looked different than she did at school. Less serious.

Draco started when he felt something brush past his leg. He had to bite his lip not to swear out loud.

‘Crookshanks!’ Hermione put her bags down and greeted the cat as it crossed the street. Draco recoiled further into the darkness, afraid she might spot him. She was directly facing him now. The cat jumped into her arms. She smiled and brushed her cheek against its fur.

And in that moment, he realised it was hopeless. Fuck convention. Fuck money. Fuck blood status. 

He’d live in a hut with her and have all the Muggle neighbours come to tea on Sunday if she’d have him.

 _If_ she’d have him…

Hermione and her parents went inside, and Draco carefully stepped forward again. The lights went on, and immediately, the atmosphere of the house changed. It was still ridiculously small, yes. It was still surrounded by Muggles. Hell, there were two Muggles _living_ there! But he couldn’t help notice how cosy it looked with the Christmas lights and the tree and just, them being together.

It made him feel more alone than ever.

He knew he should leave now. She was safe. Nothing had happened to her. He had seen it with his own eyes, and that was what he had come here for, wasn’t it? It would be inappropriate to stay any longer. Stalkery, almost. But somehow, he couldn’t tear himself away. He kept standing there, in the snow, watching her eat and talk and open presents. 

It was the cold that finally got to him. He blinked and sighed, rubbing his arms. He wanted to pick up his broom, but hesitated. It was reassuring enough seeing her so relaxed and in her element over there. But when he thought back to his nightmare chills of another nature crept up his spine.

It _had_ been more than a dream. He was certain of it.

And he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave here without doing something to ensure Hermione’s safety.

He hadn’t detected any protective charms on the house when he had flown past it. That was very careless of her. He wasn’t surprised, though. He scoffed. Granger would probably prefer death to getting a mention of Underage Magic on her permanent record. And obviously her parents were in no position to help her out.

Draco considered putting a Charm on the house himself. Letters from the Ministry didn’t bother him. The Ministry could go fuck itself for all he cared. But it would alert them to his presence here, and that was something he needed to avoid at all costs.

With a sigh he looked at his ring. It was new. Well, actually it was really old. A Malfoy family heirloom. His mother had gotten it from the vault and given it to him at the start of the school year, to wear next to his Slytherin ring. Silver, with a pale white stone. It wasn’t exactly magical as such, but it was doused with something else. Something older. What some people might refer to as superstition. It activated when danger was close and sent out a small twinge, like a sixth sense.

It could make a difference for her…

He took the ring off his finger. 

The only question now was how he was going to get her to wear it. For a split second he considered making it look like the ring was a gift from Potter. He rejected that option right away. She’d only have to thank Potter for the present and the whole lie would surface. And he couldn’t give it to her anonymously either. After what happened with Katie Bell, no girl was going to accept jewellery from secret admirers anymore. So what could he do? How did you trick someone as smart as her? 

_By telling the truth._

Of course. That was it. 

He wasn’t going to tell her he feared she might be in danger. Then she’d immediately know he was involved in something shady. But there was something else he _could_ tell her, something that was just as true.

He thought of her tears in the Room of Hidden Things, that day, after the Masquerade. The awful insults he had thrown at her.

He took out the bit of parchment with her address on it, and turned it over. Then he grabbed his quill and wrote:

“Please accept my apologies.

D. M.”

He frowned when he re-read it. He should really have put “sincere apologies”, that sounded better. Well, it was too late now. There was no more space. 

He bit his lip and in an impulse he scribbled in between the first sentence and his signature: “Merry Christmas.”

He grimaced when he looked at the result. God! Why had he done that? It was ruined now!

Still, there was nothing for it. He hadn’t any more parchment, so this would have to be it. 

Quickly, before his courage failed him, he wrapped the ring in the note and mounted his broom. Making sure he stayed out of sight from the living room, he flew up to the first floor. When he located her bedroom, he couldn’t resist taking a look through the window. He raised his eyebrows. This was a surprise. He had expected Granger’s bedroom to have been hyper organised, but it was just the opposite. He had never seen such a mess. There were books everywhere, bottles of ink, cups of stale tea and a hamper of clothes seemed to have exploded in the midst of all that. Well, he supposed that was what life was like without House-Elves. When he noticed she had bedsheets with pictures of cats on them, he decided he had crossed the boundaries of privacy. It was time to go. 

He wiped the snow from the window-sill and put the parcel there.

He wondered if she would it notice it, though, when she went to close the curtains tonight. It was quite small. So he drew an arrow in the frost on the window pane, just to be sure. She wouldn’t be able to miss that. 

With an indistinct nervousness in his stomach, but feeling rather pleased with himself too, Draco turned his broom and flew back into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Azkaban wasn’t a place you casually strolled in and out of. You couldn’t apparate there, nor fly a broomstick, and it wasn’t connected to the Floo network. 

The only way to get to the island was by sea.

‘Watch it,’ Draco snapped at the boatman, when a dash of cold water splashed his mother’s shoes. 

‘Sea’s always rough around here, son,’ the old Squib at the rudder replied.

The weather was frightful this Christmas morning, with a glacial wind that drove the waves high. Draco felt queasy. He regretted having skipped breakfast. 

‘Is this all the Ministry can afford?’ He cast a disapproving look around the open barge they were sitting in. It ploughed through the ups and downs with much groaning and straining, water constantly spraying over the top.

‘Only the best for our guests,’ the old man grinned.

Draco pulled a face as a particularly large wave thrust the boat upwards. ‘I thought this thing was supposed to be magical?’

‘If it wasn’t, you’d be complaining from the bottom of the sea right now, son.’

‘I’m not your son!’

‘Indeed.’ The man gave him a curious glance. ‘You two haven’t been in my boat before, have you? Oh, I’m not one to follow the news. Haven’t read a paper in years. But I can’t help but notice a striking resemblance with one of our newer residents. One that was brought here not that long ago, and with much ado. No less than six Aurors in his company.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Pray, who are you visiting today?’

‘Mind your own business, you old git!’ Draco snapped.

‘My, my, what a temper,’ the Squib cackled. ‘Yes, now I am quite sure. The apple doesn’t fall from the tree, does it? Take care, young man, or people might be taking my boat before long to pay _you_ a visit.’

‘Kindly keep your comments to yourself,’ Narcissa said icily.

‘Madam.’ The Squib tapped his hat, but his eyes twinkled as he turned his attention back to the waters ahead.

Draco looked up. The sky was heavy with snow, and as grey as the sea below it. High above, he could see the black silhouettes of the Dementors glide by. He shivered and turned his collar to the cold.

 

*

 

They moored on the prison dock: a small hole in the wall of the cliff. A Ministry Official opened the barred door. He was short and crooked, as if weighed down by the dark stone mass above him. A Patronus in the form of a cat circled his feet.

Narcissa handed him the clearance letter she had received from the Ministry. 

The man’s eyes flew over the paper, then focused on her and her son.

‘Your names.’

‘Draco and Narcissa Malfoy.’

He nodded. ‘Come.’

They followed him inside.

The corridor was narrow and slippery with algae. It smelled like the sea in here. But not in a good way. More like the bottom of a pier at low tide. The cold got more intense. It seemed to come from within their own bodies. A wet, slimy cold, that crawled around in their chest like a slug. 

‘It’s the Dementors sucking on the walls,’ the Official said, when he saw their expression. ‘Better get used to it. It’ll get worse as we get higher. They generally hover around the prisoners’ floors.’

Draco swallowed. He saw his mother blanche. 

‘Don’t worry,’ the Official grinned. ‘The cat will keep them at bay.’

‘If only we’d been allowed to keep our wands,’ Narcissa complained.

‘Standard procedure, madam. All wands, charms and magical objects are to be handed in before boarding the boat.’ He grinned again while his eyes trailed over her body. ‘Be grateful the strip-searches have been abolished.’

Narcissa averted her head with a _tsk._

‘A mistake if you ask me,’ the Official continued casually, as he guided them through yet another barred door. ‘But I guess that’s modern times for you. These youngsters have all new ideas about human rights and such. Visitors aren’t prisoners, blah blah blah. They’ll regret it, mark my words.’

Draco wondered if all employees here were hired based on their ability to annoy people with their stupid opinions. First that fool on the boat, now this creep. He couldn’t help seeing the irony of the situation, though. The awful little man was actually right. If they had taken his clothes off instead of just patted him down, they would have discovered the Dark Mark. Then he really would have been headed for a cell here himself, just like the boatman had predicted.

The corridor spiralled upward and they passed door after door. They hadn’t seen any Dementors yet, but the chill increased to a point it almost became unbearable. Draco’s breath escaped in small, white puffs. His mother had taken his arm, and he was glad for it. He felt his spirits drop with every step. Now and again they discerned muffled moaning, pierced by the occasional scream. It was impossible to tell if the sounds were of human origin or not.

When they reached yet another door, the Official left them in the hands of an Auror who was as huge as the Official had been small. And –thankfully- as silent as the other man had been chatty.

His badger Patronus warily sniffed the air around Draco and Narcissa as they proceeded even deeper into the prison. 

The corridors twisted and turned, ran upwards, split and merged again, and then they finally reached the floors where the prisoners were kept.

Mother and son grabbed on to each other more tightly. All hope seemed to have left the world. Night had fallen, and dawn would never break again. They were stuck in a perpetual blackness now, a freezing cold without end. 

The Dementors were here. 

Every cell door had at least one, but there were clearly prisoners who were more popular than others. Some doors had three, or even four of those creatures hovering around it.

Draco prayed his father wasn’t one of the unlucky ones.

But the Auror guided them to the cell with the largest number of all.

‘This is preposterous,’ Draco managed to say, through a throat that felt freeze-dried. ‘My father isn’t that dangerous. He doesn’t need _five_ guards.’

The Auror glanced at them, unmoved, as the Dementors scattered before his Patronus. ‘It’s not because he’s dangerous. It’s because he’s new. Still lots of life energy for them to prey on.’

And Draco realised the Dementors weren’t exactly guarding, they were _feeding_.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

The Auror opened a little latch in the cell door and called: ‘Malfoy, visitors!’

A wave of the man’s wand jerked the lock mechanism into life. It clanked and shook for a few minutes, and then they heard a loud, popping sound. 

The door creaked open.

They inhaled sharply. 

_Human rights, indeed,_ Draco thought bitterly.

 

*

 

An hour later they were sitting in the boat again, side by side, defeated. Neither of them spoke a word. And even the boatman knew better than to start talking now.

Draco’s chest felt tight and rigid. Like he had swallowed some of the cold inside that prison and taken it away with him. He had looked up to his father for as long as he could remember. But the figure the tiny, dank cell had nothing to do with that man anymore. Lucius had been unrecognisable. A mere shadow of himself. His clothes filthy, his face hollow and ashen, and with the same heavy chains around his ankles, wrists and neck as during the trial. There were a million things Draco had wanted to say to his father during these last couple of months, but just now, in the same room with him, he hadn't been able to think of a single one. He had been too shocked to speak.

Not that there had been much opportunity to really talk, anyway. The Auror looming in the corner had prevented them from exchanging any relevant information. Narcissa had asked him to leave, but he had coldly replied that unsupervised visits weren’t allowed.

Still, when Lucius had asked him how things were at school, Draco had known very well what he had meant.

Draco had nodded and lied that it was all going smoothly. What else could you tell someone in such a situation? The glimmer of hope in his father’s eyes had been insufferable to witness.

Lucius had pressed his hand against the thin wall of ice that blocked him from his wife and son. Touching wasn’t allowed either. It would only attract more Dementors. But Narcissa had immediately mirrored the gesture. She'd run her fingers over the surface of the ice pane, leaving spider web frost marks wherever she passed. From the other side, Lucius had done the same.

Draco had felt so uncomfortable he had averted his eyes. He wasn’t used to seeing this kind of open affection between his parents. He knew they loved each other, but the Malfoy household wasn’t one of easy emotional expression.

Still, the slight exhange of warmth between them was enough to have gotten the Dementors in a frenzy. When the visit was over and Narcissa and Draco left the cell, the creatures were swarming in front of the door. There were more than ten now. The Auror had guided them through, his badger in front. Behind them, a creaking sound could be heard. Shocked, Draco realised the Auror hadn’t bolted the door.

‘Stop them!’ Narcissa had pleaded to the man, when the Dementors slipped inside her husband’s cell.

But the man had just shook his head and said: ‘Visits bring joy and hope. Joy and hope attract Dementors. We have to let them have a little something now and again, madam. In exchange for their guard duties. It’s only fair.’

‘But he’ll go mad!’

‘Don’t worry. We always stop them before it’s too late. Usually, anyway.’

He made for the exit, taking his Patronus with him. Draco and Narcissa had no choice but to follow, and leave Lucius to the bottomless darkness behind them.

Draco looked at his mother as she sat next to him now, in the rocking boat. Her face was as pale as his father’s had been. She was staring straight ahead, without really seeing anything.

‘The state he was in…’ she whispered. And with a quiet, demure jerk of her shoulders, she burst into tears.

‘Oh, mother…’ Draco sighed. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. They clung onto each other, paying no mind to the presence of the boatman anymore. In some situations, keeping your dignity was a far illusion. 

‘Now you understand why I can’t have Snape help me?’ he whispered, leaning his head against hers. ‘I have to do this alone. I have to get him out of there!’

She nodded with a sniff. Relieved, Draco took her hand. They sat together like that for a while, in silence, as Narcissa slowly regained her composure. When she caressed his hand, she suddenly noticed the bare spot on his finger.

‘Where’ s the ring I gave you?’ she frowned.

‘I… I lost it.’

‘Oh, Draco! That ring has been in your father’s family for centuries.’

‘Sorry, Mother.’

She sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter. After all, it’s only a possession.’

She brushed his cheek and then rested her head against his shoulder again. She closed her eyes, exhausted from the past ordeal. Draco exhaled. He gazed at the grey sea around them, and his thoughts trailed off to Hermione. He wished she were here. He wished he could be holding her right now, just like he was holding his mother. What a comfort that be to him. To smell her hair, to feel her skin against his, but most of all to just _talk_ to her. He thought back to that moment in the Room of Requirement, after they had slept together. How safe he had felt then. How completely himself. She had seemed to understand him so well…

 _I wonder if she’s found the ring,_ he thought. 

And the note.

His stomach jolted.

He wasn’t counting on a reply, but he secretly hoped she would send one all the same. There hadn’t been any owls at breakfast this morning. But maybe there would be now, when he got home?

He sighed and called out to the boatman: ‘Can’t this wreck go any faster?’


	9. Chapter 9

There was no owl upon his return. Nor was there one the day after. Or the day after that. It was to be expected. She’d probably wait until they were back at Hogwarts before talking to him. Yet with each passing morning, the tension in Draco’s chest grew. He had no idea how she had reacted when discovering the parcel, and he found he wasn’t handling the uncertainty very well. Or, _at all,_ really. He had considered sending her an owl himself, but what would he write? Every time he thought about it, his mind went blank. 

And visiting her house again wasn’t an option either. 

After all, she could still be angry with him. He hoped not, but it was certainly a possibility. And what if she hadn’t even _found_ the ring? She’d sure be surprised to see him standing on her doorstep then; she’d freak! Besides, how would he go about meeting her anyway? Throw a little stone at her window? Or bluntly ring the bell? What if her parents opened the door? What on earth would he say to them, a pair of Muggles? God, he could see it now… Hi, I’m a friend of Hermione’s, from the Wizarding school. Well, more of a mortal enemy, really, but we ended up sleeping together this semester, and I sort of called her a slut afterwards, but I sneaked around your house at Christmas Eve and left her a present, so I hope everything is fine now. May I come in?

_God, help me,_ he thought. 

The situation looked dire indeed...

Yet for all the worst-case scenarios that ran through his head—over and over again, to the most unsettling of details—there were a couple of nice ones too. Draco had to admit they sounded much less likely than the bad ones, but indulging in them was a pleasure he couldn’t manage to deny himself.

In his fantasy, he would be walking on platform nine and three quarters. The Hogwarts Express stood there, waiting to carry them back to school, the steam from its engines clouding the platform. Through the fume, he’d spot her. A flash of recognition in her eyes, and she would come dashing up to him, her face all serious, urgently whispering that she needed to speak to him, while the ring glistened like a beacon on her finger. They’d get on the train together, she would pull him into a private compartment and ask him what the ring meant, why he had given it to her. He would explain, and then she’d look at him with those brown eyes, a little bashful, and tell him that was so sweet and that she forgave him, of course, that was all she had longed to do, from the very beginning. Potter meant nothing to her. He was a bad joke. No, it was _him_ she wanted, and him alone, all along. She would draw close then, and Draco would feel her lips against his once more, the promise in her kiss, and then he would tell her everything. Really _everything,_ this time. About his father, about the plot to kill Dumbledore, about Voldemort. And she would listen and understand and her clever brain would find a way out of this mess. Or she wouldn’t find a way out, but at least, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. She’d be there for him. That’s what she had said, after all…

It was wishful thinking, Draco knew that, but when the morning of the return to Hogwarts finally arrived, this was the scenario that accompanied him into King’s Cross station. He felt so nervous he thought he was going to be sick. Part of him was excited, the other utterly terrified. He had said goodbye to his mother at home, so he walked out onto the platform on his own. It was bustling with students. Quickly, he scanned the crowd, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He threw his bags onto the pile and wrung his hands. It was still frightfully cold.

‘Hey, Draco.’

He turned around. ‘Oh, hi, Daphne.’

They gave each other a kiss on the cheek. ‘How was your holiday?’ he asked, pleased with the distraction.

She shrugged. ‘Okay. Yours?’ She gave him a reproachful nudge. ‘I missed you at Christmas Eve.’

‘Sorry. I wasn’t feeling very well.’

‘Yeah, your mother said as much.’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘My sister sure was disappointed, though.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I think she’s got a bit of a crush on you.’

Draco couldn’t believe it. ‘Who, little Astoria?’

Daphne nodded, with a smile. ‘She was sulking all evening.’

‘Oh, that’s cute.’

‘Better not mention it to Pansy, though, right?’ Daphne joked.

‘C’mon, she wouldn’t be jealous of an eleven year old, would she?’ Draco grinned.

Draco and Daphne looked at each other, and suddenly, their smiles faded.

‘Well, maybe best not to say anything, after all,’ Draco reconsidered, awkwardly.

‘No, best not,’ Daphne agreed, looking a bit shell-shocked now.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. ‘Is she around, by any chance? Pans, I mean.’

‘Haven’t seen her.’

‘Oh. Good.’

Daphne gave him an amused look.

‘Well, I mean, uh…’ he tried to salvage the situation.

She let out a little giggle. ‘Oh, I know what you _mean,_ Draco. Well, see you later.’ 

He watched as she went to get on the train. 

And then he spotted her. 

Not Daphne, _Hermione._

She materialized out of the thick steam on the platform, just like he had pictured it. She was pushing a trolley, flanked by the Weasel, and Potter, of course. What gentlemen they were, letting her do the work. He would’ve expected nothing else from the ginger; he came from peasant stock. But Potter… 

_Fucker doesn’t realise what he has,_ Draco thought, full of spite. 

The trio’s things were all on the same cart, most of it consisting of clean laundry, a couple of bags, and their pets. Draco recognised the orange cat immediately. The memory it invoked made his heart jump. 

At that point, Hermione noticed him too. She halted abruptly, her cheeks flushing bright red. For a moment, they stood and stared at each other like that. Draco held his breath. He thought he could feel something pass between them. But then her face grew dark, her jaw set, and with a pointed movement, she turned her back to him. 

Her hands, on the trolley—though thankfully not holding one of Potter’s—had been bare. No jewellery. No rings.

She couldn’t have made it any more clear.

Apology _not_ accepted…

He glanced at the boys, but Potter and Weasley were talking to each other and hadn’t even noticed him. Draco didn’t know what he felt, as she stood there on the platform. Invisible? Intangible and fleeting as the steam around him? He knew he ought to be mad, being rejected like this. He had gone on a limb by giving her the ring. He had opened up and put himself in a vulnerable position, and she had responded by slamming the door in his face. He had been humiliated. By all accounts, he should be furious.

And yet, the only thing he truly felt right now, was tired. A deep fatigue that pressed down on him, squashing him like a giant hand. The last hope he didn’t even know he had been clinging to, was gone. There lay nothing between him and his fate now. He had to do it. For the first time he realised he was _really_ going to have to do it. What choice did he have? He was nothing if not for his family. He didn’t have any real friends. His mother, his _father,_ they were his world; all he had.

With regret, he cast a last look at Hermione. At her back, so ostentatiously turned to him. At those bushy curls of hers, that had felt surprisingly soft and welcoming between his fingers. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. He must have been crazy. By the end of term, he would either be a murderer, or dead. Neither really a good base for a relationship…

_But I know what option I pick,_ he thought, resolve settling in his stomach. 

There was no way out anymore. So why not embrace it? Deep down, Draco had always known Voldemort expected him to fail. It would be the ultimate humiliation, the ultimate blow dealt to his father. And deep down, he had expected to fail, too. But every now and again, he could feel something in his chest. Something moving and scratching and rattling to get out. Something that would _devour_ him, if he set it free. 

Maybe it was time to let it.

Maybe it was time to truly become the dragon.

‘Hey, baby,’ Pansy purred, as Draco stepped into the Slytherin compartment. She curled her body up against him and gave him a soft, slow kiss. ‘I’ve really missed you.’ She cocked her head, coyly. ‘Did you miss me too?’

He just looked at her, and said nothing. 

‘Hey, um, I saw you standing on the platform with Daphne just now,’ she began, sounding seemingly innocent, but he could hear the familiar accusing, almost panicky tone simmering underneath. ‘What were you two talking about, huh?’

He kept looking at her.

‘Well?’ she insisted, still smiling, albeit a whole lot less convincing now.

And just like that, he decided he’d had enough.

‘It’s over, Pans,’ he stated.

She blinked up at him. ‘W-what?’

He shrugged, and simply repeated: ‘It’s over.’

Without another word of explanation, he left her standing there, and removed himself from the compartment. He was surprised how easy it had been. He had expected more drama; for Pansy to put up more of a fight. But she was probably too dazed by the speed of things to realise what had really happened. Or maybe she was secretely a little relieved as well, who knew? Draco headed for a private compartment. Without Pansy, and sadly, without Hermione, too.

It didn’t matter.

That was all in the past, now. 

Dragons were solitary beasts, after all.


End file.
